After a moment's silence, Casa shrugged. "Beats hell outta me, Stace. If they're really related, why would Jase take off and not want this guy to see or know about him? That's loco."
"Maybe they got a feud going," Spark drawled. "Bad blood, but Jase don't want to turn a customer away. Maybe this Langford dude doesn't know who owns the place. The ads really never say, y'know."
Stace shook his head, stood and picked up his Bandera straw summer hat. "Maybe we'll find out by-and-by. I've gotta go get Langford and show him around, talk to him a little and see what he seems to be up for. He flat out asked me about the Rainbow in the name, and I told him. So I think that's the first clue as to what he's looking for. He wants to make it with a cowboy--or maybe more than one."
Spark grinned. "Well, we can sure enough give him whatever he wants. He can have one, two or all three of us. Flava of the day or a real rainbow."
Chapter 2
Jared changed into a new pair of jeans and one of the faded blue chambray shirts he'd bought just for this trip. He did wear jeans at times, but never anything as countrified as a chambray work shirt. The garish stripes and plaids the cowboys wore seemed too extreme, so this was the most suitable thing he had. He'd even bought a hat, and when he stepped out of his room to greet the cowboy who had driven him to the ranch, he saw the man wore one almost identical. That seemed like a good omen.
He paused for a moment to absorb the way the black cowboy filled out his Wranglers. Oh, man, he's got an ass to die for. What's up front looks pretty impressive, too. Now if these boys actually live up to the John Wayne rough and tough image, I think I'm in for a very good time.
The cowboy smiled, a flash of even white teeth in his handsome face. "By the way, Mr. Langford, my name's Stace. That's short for Eustace. Why my mama went and gave me a fancy name like that, I have no idea. Just call me Stace or even 'Hey, you,' if you want."
"Let's not be formal, Stace. My name's Jared and while I'm here, I'd just as soon leave that 'Mister' on the shelf."
"That'll work for me. Let's go take a look around the headquarters here so you'll know where everything is, okay?"
Jared fell in step with the younger man, breathing deeply of the dry air, which carried exotic traces of wild plants, horses and a world completely alien to his sterile office and apartment environment in California. Why didn't I do this sooner? Hell, I feel like a new man already.
* * * *
They gathered at the corrals just before sunset. Besides the three cowboys and the four current guests, the old horse wrangler was there, too. Stace glanced at the stove-up old bronco buster with a faint smile. There but for the wisdom to get out in time could be Spark and Casa and me. They called the old man Gabby, not because he was so talkative, but as a joke because you were lucky to get three words at a time out of him. He used gestures about as much as speech.
With a jerk of his head, Gabby indicated to each of the younger cowboys which "dude" should go on which horse. Since he almost never made a bad choice, the three deferred to his decisions. Stace turned to Jared.
The California man had said something to the effect it was his first time to visit a ranch. Watching him, Stace had some doubts about that. The tall, lean man approached the buckskin gelding with a steady, confident step. He held one hand out for the horse to sniff before he reached to gather the reins. Then he turned the stirrup out and lifted his left leg to slide a toe into it. He gave a slight spring and swung himself easily into the saddle.
If he hasn't done that before, I'll eat my hat. Stace grinned. Then he noticed the bulge under the right side of the other man's untucked shirt. "Just a minute," he said. "I'll have to take that cell phone, Jared. We don't allow them on any of our rides or other trips."
Jared turned to him with an expression close to a snarl. "I can't be out of touch," he said. "What if there's an emergency?"
Stace shook his head. "Nope, we have communications in case there's an accident, and the fellow who handles the admin stuff for the boss can contact us on the two-way radio if, say, a guest's relative got in an accident or anything. The purpose of your stay is to have a break in the routine. Let me have the phone. I'll put it in a secure locker here in the tack room until we get back."
Jared mumbled something that sounded both angry and rude, but he jerked the clip off his belt and tossed Stace the phone.
Oh, shit, not a great beginning, but I can hope he'll thank me when it's all over. These damn high-priced executives and their illusion the world's gonna stop if they can't be contacted!
He made a fast dash into the tack room to stow the phone and hurried back to get on his favorite horse, a showy black-and-white tobiano Paint named Oreo.
Spark already had the bunch headed out onto the trail. Stace had to lope a hundred yards to catch up. He slowed Oreo before they got too close to the rest to be sure he didn't spook one of the guests' horses. Casa's charge was a short, husky man from back east, Chicago if Stace recalled correctly. Spark shepherded the Texan, all attitude and mouth, and a quiet little man who seemed to be the Houston executive's constant companion.
Maybe I've got the best of the deal for now.
As Stace reined in at the rear, he noticed Jared sat his horse easily and seemed to control the animal without any problems. Of course, Dust, like the rest of the ranch horses, had good training and a calm temperament, but even a good horse can tell if its rider doesn't know shit. Jared knew shit, no question about it. However, equally obvious was his pout, apparently peevishness over the rule that deprived him of his cell phone.
Stace grinned to himself. Step one in letting the Californian know he's not in charge here. Dollar to a donut says that's what he really wants.
Even if nothing had been said, he'd already figured the newest guest secretly wanted to be bossed around, maybe even subjected to some discipline. By subtle degrees, Stace would start the process, and tonight... Well, tonight he'd give Jared Langford exactly what he craved.
* * * *
Jared hunched on the log bench staring into the campfire. Is this vacation going to be what I need or not? Even knowing the notion to be stupid, he felt naked without his cell phone. A dozen drastic scenarios lurched though his mind. What if any one of a thousand potential catastrophes happened at Montague and no one could reach him?
Those nagging worries dampened any pleasure he might have found in the scrumptious steak with all the cowboy fixings, in the amusing tall tales interspersed with guitar solos played by the handsome Latino cowboy and the old and new country ballads warbled by the tall, blond wrangler. Congenial company, a good meal and pleasant if not stellar entertainment. What more could he possibly want? That was a question he wasn't sure if he even wanted to answer.
He almost jumped out of his skin when a firm hand settled on his shoulder. "Don't look like you're havin' fun here, Jared. What do you say we take a little ride through the hills and maybe find some other entertainment?"
He glanced up at Stace, the wrangler who'd picked him up at the airport and seemed to have made Jared his special charge.
Jared shrugged. "Sure, why not?" He knew he'd be ridiculously petty to hold the cell phone confiscation against the cowboy, who no doubt had only followed ranch rules. If Jared had a beef, it would be with the absent owner and boss. Maybe he'd have a chance to confront that man later. For now, he didn't mind some more time in the handsome and pleasant young man's company. Who knew where it might lead?
Stace led Jared to the picket line where their mounts had been resting and untied both horses. He waited while Jared mounted the buckskin before he swung up on the Paint.
"Don't have too far to go, just up on this ridge here," the cowboy said. After a moment, he went on. "You familiar with any Native American customs?"
"Not too many. My company has released a couple of documentary presentations, but I wasn't involved in the actual filming and recording. Never had time to look into that stuff, although the old west and all its traditions interested me when I was younge
r."
"Maybe you'd enjoy spending a night in a real authentic Lakota tipi then and a little taste of the ghost dance. Just happens one of my great-grandpas was a buffalo soldier who took up with a Native woman, daughter of one of the scouts who worked with the U.S. Cavalry back in those days. That means I have a little Apache in me along with my African ancestry."
Despite his sense of gloom, Jared could not help a shimmer of interest. Now that he thought about it, he could see a trace of Indian in Stace's striking face. Maybe this would be a real adventure after all.
It took them about half an hour to reach the top of the ridge. On a small flat there, a traditional hide tipi stood, the doorway facing eastward to overlook a panoramic view of southern New Mexico. Stace moved quickly to settle the horses, brought the saddles inside and then turned to Jared.
"Get naked, paleface. If you plan to become a real blood brother, you need to dedicate yourself to the native spirits in a ghost dance."
For a breath, Jared hesitated. Then he undressed, stacking his clothes neatly to one side.
Meanwhile, Stace lit a small fire in a stone ring at the center of the tipi where the smoke rose cleanly through the opening at the top. By its flickering glow, Jared glanced around the interior. If the structure held anything of the twenty-first century, he could not see it. A few striped blankets lay folded on what looked like real hair-on hides. To one side, some clay pots sat near a couple of primitive looking bows and quivers of arrows. A leather shield painted with crude buffalo and horse images leaned against the wall.
Then Jared noticed a tripod toward the back. Three stout poles had been lashed together to create three-cornered shape that barely fit beneath the tipi's towering peak. Several ropes or thongs hung from the central binding. Stace shoved him toward the area beneath the poles. Grasping both of Jared's arms, he spun him around and then lashed him firmly to two of the tripod legs.
Taking two of the dangling thongs that ended in spring clips, the cowboy snapped one on each of Jared's nipples. The pinch, though a bit painful, also aroused Jared. His cock sprang to life. Nothing he could do would stop it. He glanced at the cowboy to see how he reacted.
Face impassive, Stace reached to collect two more thongs, these ending in neat nooses. The first thong he looped over Jared's balls and drew up firmly. Then he grasped Jared's cock in one hand and slid a noose over the tip, drawing it snug right behind the head Again, Jared felt mild pain, but it was more exciting than distressing.
"What the fuck?"
"Ghost dance," Stace answered. "In the old days we'd have cut your skin and put bone skewers through it and then slowly tightened each of the thongs until you were dancin' on your toes. We're more civilized now. Stay put. I'll be back in a little while." He stooped to gather Jared's clothes before he pushed through the crossed panels of leather at the doorway and disappeared.
For a split second, panic rushed through Jared. What if he doesn't come back? What if he just leaves me here? Even if I can get loose, I'm bare-assed and I sure don't want to try to ride that way! And that's supposing he leaves me a horse...
Although it seemed like hours, Jared realized probably no more than twenty minutes elapsed before Stace returned. When the cowboy entered the tipi this time, he wore only a leather breechclout, a string of beads and claws around his neck and a beaded headband with three feathers stuck into it. If they were not real eagle feathers, someone had deftly dyed them to look like they were. Jared's breath caught in his throat. If Stace looked good in his regular cowboy attire, he looked a hundred times better now.
Barefoot, Stace made no sound as he prowled a circle in the tipi and finally came to stand directly in front of Jared.
Jared tried not to flinch as Stace reached past him. The cowboy gave each of the four thongs a swift jerk so they vibrated like guitar strings. Jared hadn't realized he'd sagged a bit as his legs got tired. His bound arms took part of his weight, but the thongs had drawn tight. Pain and excitement sizzled along his nerves. The old phrase "hurt so good" flashed across his mind. He sensed himself totally at the other man's mercy, a realization that both thrilled and shocked him. Jared Langford, arrogant executive, could no longer even pretend to be in charge.
Yes! This is what I've hoped and longed for...maybe not this specific scenario, but the feeling, the atmosphere. He shivered with anticipation. He had no idea what would happen next, but he suspected it would be arousing, titillating, even overpowering beyond his wildest dreams. Almost holding his breath, he waited.
Stace looked him up and down dispassionately and yet with a hint of interest. The cowboy's dick had risen well past half-mast, bobbing slightly under the soft suede with his breath and heartbeat, just as Jared's twitched against the restraint of the thong. After a moment, Stace shoved aside the concealing strip of leather, baring his impressive masculine package. The dangling russet suede set off his powerful cock and balls in a half-framed vignette. Jared couldn't take his gaze from the sight. Heat flashed through his body as he waited, impatient yet resigned. I am not in charge. I have no say over what happens or when it happens. Yes!
After long seconds, Stace smiled. His eyes caught sparks from the firelight and his even white teeth flashed against the darkness of his face. "So, big man, what do you think I should do with you? Still mad about your phone? You have no need for it now, you know."
Jared nodded. "I know. I'm not as big or as indispensible as I thought I was. The sun will come up in the morning regardless of where I am or what I'm doing. Right now I'm your captive slave, prisoner of a fierce warrior of the plains."
Stace smiled again. "You catch on fast for a paleface." He reached out and slashed the thongs binding Jared's arms to the poles. For a moment, Jared wavered. With that support gone, more strain fell to the thongs on his nipples and cock. He felt the bite of the clips and the pressure on his prick and balls as the nooses tightened. He still could do nothing to relieve them. He probably could have grabbed hold of the two poles where he'd been tied, but somehow he could not find the will to try.
"I think I want this prisoner to suck my cock," Stace said. He reached over Jared's head again and loosened the knot to let the thongs slacken. "On your knees."
Jared knelt, feeling the four thongs slip enough to let him down, yet their hold did not totally release. Once on his knees, he found his face just even with Stace's crotch. That magnificent mahogany cock seemed to be reaching for him. As if hypnotized by the sight, Jared lifted his right hand to grasp it as he leaned forward to touch his lips to the single shimmering drop on the tip. The liquid sparkled jewel-bright in the firelight. He captured the drop with his tongue, then widened his mouth to slip over the crown. He nearly had to unhinge his jaws like a snake's to take it all in. What an incredible dong!
Stace rested one hand on the top of Jared's head, fingers spreading across his skull. "If you do a good job, white man, I may not have to punish you."
Yes, this was a game, but such a far cry from the make-believe Goths and vampires and masters he'd encountered in the club in California. For a game, this felt incredibly real. He could yell his head off and no one would hear. The cowboy surely would not do such a thing, but Jared knew he could be killed or maimed and no one might know of it for weeks. Stace had not asked him for a safe word yet he felt no fear, only a sense of rightness and release, almost too powerful to believe.
Relaxing his jaws and throat, Jared took as much of the cowboy's massive dick into his mouth as he could. The hot flesh seemed to burn the inside of his lips and his tongue as the silky skin slipped and rippled over the steel-hard shaft. Jason tasted the salty-sweet flavor of man and inhaled the musky odor of arousal that thickened the air inside the tipi. Then he let every sense fade as he concentrated completely on sucking Stace's cock. He gave himself to the act as totally as he had ever done anything in his life, as if his very life depended on it.
Jared gradually picked up the rhythm, drawing faster and harder with each stroke, tightening his lips around the heated sh
aft and rocking as he sucked. He felt the tremors start in the cowboy's body, sensed Stace shift his feet as he strove to keep his balance. His grip on Jared's head tightened, fingers digging like talons into Jared's scalp. Finally, Stace erupted in a powerful ejaculation. He yelled out an ear-splitting whoop as he came.
For a moment, Jared stared up, mesmerized as Stace swayed above him. Finally, the cowboy leaned forward and grabbed two of the poles of the tripod.
He blew out a long breath. "Whew. That was a real blow job--blew my brains right out."
With a surge of satisfaction that he'd passed at least one test, Jared rocked back on his heels. He let out an involuntary gasp as the thongs all bit, the clips tugging at his nipples and the line on his dick threatening to stretch it an inch or two beyond its normal length, while the other noose squeezed his balls. A second breath whistled through his teeth as he tried to lift his body enough to relieve the pressure. His lower legs and feet had gone to sleep. He couldn't move much.
I won't holler or cuss or bawl. I'll take it like a man.
But that resolve grew harder to keep with each passing second. Now he wished he'd insisted on a safe word. Things were getting out of hand.
Chapter 3
Stace leaned into his extended arms, clenching his hands tightly around the peeled pine poles. Been a while since I had a BJ like that. Whew. His legs still shook with the aftermath of his powerful climax.
All at once, the distress in Jared's face penetrated his brief daze. A quick downward glance showed him what was wrong. He released his grip on the poles and reached up to untie the knot holding the thongs. They all fell free, four tanned strings drifting down onto Jared's bowed white shoulders. The other man sagged then, folding down on himself as the pull ceased. Stace hoped the pain would ease as well. Too much of a good thing could turn bad fast.
The Wild Bunch 1 Stace Page 2
